Kai #2
I reach out for the map, palm open. She places it in my hand without hesitation.
The second it touches my skin, the parchment shudders, black bleeding into a deep, violent red.
Like spilled blood soaking through fabric.
I glance at her, frozen, jaw slack, caught somewhere between shock and silence.
Eyes locked on the map like it’s just betrayed her.
I half expect it to be wet, but it’s dry and warm.
“It… it turns black when I’m near, or when I’m on the right path to what I yearn for most,” she says, voice uneven. “I don’t know what red means.” I stare at the crimson-stained parchment. Then at her. My chest tightens.
“Not a thing,” I say quietly. “But a person you desire.”
She recoils. “No,” she breathes, almost to herself.
“It has to be a thing. Like information, power, a key. For some reason I trust the map. It led me to your ship, because you know something.” But then her expression cracks, just slightly.
Her eyes flick to mine and stay there. She finally looked up at me.
Again, why do I even give a shit if she looks at me?
The truth hits her like a crashing wave.
“No,” she whispers again, shaking her head.
“Not you.” Her voice sharpens into steel.
“It can’t be you. Everything about you is repulsive.
” Her jaw sets. Her spine straightens. She meets my gaze with fire now.
“Your father slaughtered my mother. In cold blood. In front of me. In front of my father.” She pauses.
“While you watched.” Her eyes narrowed to a lethal glare.
Her words are sharp and precise. But I don’t flinch.
Tears brim in her eyes, and the sight scorches something deep inside me, something I thought long dead.
“I saw you,” she breathes. “You were old enough to stop him. But you didn’t.
You let that monster take her from me.” Each word lands like a blow, pointed and merciless.
She takes a slow breath and then fires the final shot.
“It will never be you.” It feels like she spit venom at me.
The hatred in her voice cuts straight through me, sharp and unrelenting.
It bleeds from her eyes, pure, raw disgust. I reach for her face, my fingers curling gently beneath her chin.
Not rough. Just enough to make sure she sees me.
A single tear slips from the corner of her eye, trailing down my fingers like a silent accusation.
Something inside me wants to comfort her.
No matter how tightly I cling to the hatred I’ve harbored, she keeps unraveling it, simply by being who she is.
“I’m sorry he took your mother from you,” I say, low and steady. “But I am not him.” She shakes her head, tries to pull away, but I follow, step for step. I don’t let go.
“No, you’re not him,” she snaps. “You’re worse.” The words land like a blow to the ribs. My jaw tightens. Heat rises in my chest.
“I am nothing like my father,” I growl. “Was he a great pirate? Sure. Ruthless. Cunning. Feared. But his heart?” I pause, teeth gritted.
“Cold. Black. He didn’t care about anyone.
Not even me. And if he didn’t give a damn about his own son, he sure as hell didn’t care about a little girl and her mother.
” I released her, not because she wanted to be freed from my touch, but because every single second my skin touches her a flame ignites, one I can’t put out.
“But me?” My voice roughens. “I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t. Not even to my worst enemy. I don’t hurt children. Not even by accident.”
She turns away without a word, her gaze fixed on the sea. Her back is straight, shoulders drawn tight. The silence stings. I stare at her, stunned by how effortlessly she turns her back to me, like she’s not afraid, like she knows I won’t strike, even if I could… even if I should.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, eyes fixed on the horizon.
She pushes down the emotions so effortlessly.
The sun is nearly gone now, bleeding into the sea.
“I need you. And you need me. We both know it.” She pauses, then adds, voice sharp, final, “We can make a deal now, or I leave. And you’ll never see me again. ” Her threat is sharp. Final.
The idea of her walking off my ship shouldn’t bother me. But it lands in my chest like something heavy. She’s the key. The only one who can get me where I need to go. That’s all this is. That’s all it has to be. Whatever else stirs beneath that, I’ll bury it.
She won’t survive on her own. Not when word gets out about what she is, what runs in her veins. But that’s not the only reason I don’t want her to go. I want to know more. Every scar, every secret she harbors, every storm she’s hiding behind that sharp tongue.
I drag in a breath, stuffing the chaos down. I school my face into something easy, unreadable. “We can make a deal, Captain Mira,” I say at last, a slow, bitter smile pulling at my mouth. “Where should we start?”
She turns, eyes guarded, and extends her hand. It’s not surrender. It’s a challenge. A warning. I take it anyway. Her hand is soft. Small against mine. But there’s roughness too, calluses from a blade, maybe a cutlass. She’s been training. She’s not just a pretty face with a sharp tongue.
The second we touch, something shifts. A spark, instant, unwelcome.
My body betrays me, igniting with something I have no right to feel.
I’m supposed to hate her. I’m supposed to want her dead.
Take her enchanted ship. Watch her crew fall.
End that cursed bloodline. Bring honor to my name.
That was the plan. Always the plan. But that plan is crumbling, fast. Now I need her.
“I think it would be best if you and your crew boarded my ship,” I say, voice steady. “Yours is too well-known, too traceable. Mine is feared in every port. No one follows The Leviathan without a death wish.”
Mira raises a brow. Not in surprise, just mild annoyance. “So you want me to just drop my family heirloom off and go roaming the seas with you? What are you hiding, Pirate Lord?”
I let out a small laugh. She’s intelligent enough to question me.
“Like I said, treasure, I know a lot you don’t.
What I can tell you is you’re of value, I know you know it, and you will be hunted.
My crew, ship, and most importantly myself, can offer you the protection we both need to get to the fountain.
We’ll be better if we travel with higher numbers. ”
“And where would I sleep?” She completely dismisses what I say.
I glance around the room. My quarters. The only space I’ve never let anyone enter. Not even my crew. Not even once. I hesitate, then gesture toward the bed, massive, cold, untouched on one side. “Here.”
Her arms fold slowly across her chest, eyes narrowing. “You want me to sleep in the same room. Same bed.”
“There’s room enough not to touch,” I say flatly. “I’ve survived worse arrangements.”
She tilts her head, like she’s trying to decipher what game I’m playing. “There has to be another room.”
“There’s not.” A beat passes. “Not one that locks from the inside. Not one without eyes or ears.” I shift my weight.
I hate explaining myself. But she needs to understand, I’m not offering comfort.
I’m offering control. “My father’s still alive.
He’s on board. He gets loose sometimes. And if he sees you…
” My jaw tightens. “He’ll tear you apart before anyone can stop him. ”
Her lips part, just barely. But she doesn’t flinch or cower. She calculates. I can see it in the way her gaze sweeps the room, not in fear, but in assessment. Measuring threats and me. “You think I can’t handle him?” she asks.
“I think I’ve watched him slaughter men bigger than you without blinking. Creatures that haunt your nightmares.” I pause. “He won’t care who you are. Only that you bleed. But in your case, your blood is what he has been wanting to spill for far too long.”
Another long silence. She doesn’t yield. Just stands there, spine straight, daring me to treat her like less than what she is. And maybe I would if I didn’t already know how dangerous she is.
“Hmm,” she hums, brow arching. “You keep him locked away like some dog?”
The corner of my mouth twitches, almost a laugh.
“His sickness is a liability. I won’t let anyone near.
Especially you.” She nods, just barely. But it’s not agreement, it’s acknowledgment.
Her eyes stay on me, like she’s trying to read between the cracks.
Like she knows I’m not telling her everything. And she’s right.
“And my crew?” she asks finally. “Where will they stay?”
“In the sleeping quarters,” I reply. “There’s more than enough space. Plenty of beds.” She just studies me like she’s cataloging every detail of this deal, weighing its worth. I keep my posture loose, unaffected.
What I don’t say is that my crew has thinned over the years. Not from death, but from purging. I don’t let just anyone aboard The Leviathan. Everyone here has earned their place. Some I’ve known since I was a boy. Others I’ve fought beside, bled beside. Loyalty matters, but silence matters more.
Trust isn’t handed out like rations. It’s rare. And these days, with the sea turning restless and monsters wearing the skin of men, finding someone who won’t slit your throat in your sleep is worth more than gold. I can’t afford softness. Especially not now with her on board.
“And who will be the captain of the ship?” she says, standing straight and confident.
“Oh, Captain Mira, you sure have a lot of questions, but treasure, don’t get confused. This is my vessel.”
Her emerald eyes darken, “I won’t leave The Siren if I’m not a captain of my own men… so how badly do you want this alliance, Captain Kai?” Her words are slick and full of taunting.